


Priorities

by Anonymous



Category: All Elite Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Not Kayfabe Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23115124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: On a trip from Chicago to Philadelphia, Kota's plane is forced to make an emergency landing.
Relationships: Ibushi Kota/Kenny Omega
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

Kota woke suddenly to the feeling of falling. It was a sensation he usually associated with moonsaulting – that joyful weightlessness he experienced whenever he threw himself backwards into the air, confident that trusted hands would be waiting to catch him. This time, however, there was no moonsault responsible for his free-fall.

He was currently sitting in the window seat on a small plane heading from Chicago to Philadelphia. Beside him sat Tanahashi in the middle seat, and newly graduated Shota Umino had the aisle. The three of them had been loaned out to Ring of Honor for a show in Chicago, but were now headed to join New Japan on a short, three city US tour. It had been a fun excursion, but he was most looking forward to the East Coast shows.

Kenny would be meeting him in Philadelphia and shadowing him to Boston and, finally New York. After that, Kota planned to stay in the US for another week, going to Florida with Kenny to see his new apartment in Orlando and spend some much needed private time together.

The last 12+ months since their decision to pursue their careers in different countries had been full of short stays and Skype calls at all hours of the day and night. They saw each other as often as they could, with Kenny making it a point to meet-up with Kota whenever he came to the States for matches, and booking shows with DDT since New Japan was determined to pretend Kenny (and the Golden Lovers) did not exist. But the separation was wearing on them, and Kota decided it was time for an extended visit.

Kota traveling to the States on his own remained a challenge. Even after all these years, he still had difficulty navigating American airports, and he feared getting on the wrong plane again. Given enough forewarning, Nakazawa was often more than willing to act as travel chaperone, but only if there was enough time to plan ahead.

At this point, he and Kenny hadn’t seen each other in several weeks, because the last time they had been together was during Kota’s bout with the flu. Kenny had flown out as soon as Kota was declared no longer contagious, rushing to his side to help him recover. Kenny’s cool hands and loving care had been a blessing to his aching, worn out body, and his patience and attentiveness were instrumental to Kota’s quick recovery.

But that visit had been brief, and much of it had been taken up by his regaining the weight and strength he had lost during his illness. There were downsides to not having any spare fat to speak of. With no reserves to draw upon, his body lost muscle mass quickly every time he got sick, and putting it back on when he was still vomiting had been difficult. Kota loathed being sick, but Kenny was an excellent nursemaid; never letting him push himself too hard too soon, but knowing Kota would test his limits every day.

The illness had ruined their plans to meet up during Kota’s New Japan tour of the US South. Kenny had been going to drive to Tampa as soon as he disembarked from the Jericho cruise, and then shadow Kota on as many dates of the tour as possible. They had sobbed over Skype when Kota had to break the news that he was too ill to travel. Kenny had wanted to drop everything and rush to Japan immediately, but wiser, cooler heads convinced him to wait until Kota could no longer infect him with the virus.

Once he was better, and cleared for work, Kota jumped at the chance to be on a US tour, if only to see Kenny, and he didn’t mind the brief detour to Chicago to help out a struggling partner company. Kota hoped that ROH would see improvements now that Marty was in control of the booking, and from what he had seen of the last two days, the man seemed to be doing a good job.

Their flight to Philadelphia was supposed to be a short trip, and they were scheduled to land at Philadelphia International Airport mid-morning with plenty of time to get to the hotel and prepare for a 19:00hrs show. Shota also had a meet-n-greet with fans at 16:00hrs, something he was looking forward to. Coming out of his nap to find the plane dropping altitude, however, made him wonder if something was wrong.

In answer to his own question, the plane stopped falling and leveled out, but not before wobbling from side to side, and even when it did stop falling, it continued to shake as if staying airborne was a struggle.

Kota looked over to his travelling companions only to find them pale and visibly shaken.

“What is happening?” he asked.

“We don’t know,” Tanahashi replied, his jaw tight with strain.

“It felt like someone grabbed the plane, yanked it to the side, then dropped it,” Shota said.

“At least it’s stopped feeling like we were falling down,” Tana added.

“Has there been any explanation?” he questioned.

Shota shook his head, “Not yet.” But he’d no sooner said that when the intercom system turned on and someone began to speak in English. Although the voice was calm and seemed designed to assuage their fears, everyone could hear the alarms blaring in the background.

“What is he saying?” Kota asked.

“He is saying that everything is fine. There was just some turbulence,” Shota said.

“And the alarm?”

Shota didn’t answer because the voice on the intercom system was speaking again, and he paused to listen.

“He says there is a smoke alarm going off, but that it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Bullshit,” Tana said, frowning. “It is obvious something has gone wrong with the plane.”

As if to punctuate Tana’s prediction, the plane gave another wobble and dropped again, a short drop this time, but alarm was spreading through the passengers. Kota found himself gripping the arm rests of his seat as the woman behind him screamed.

“What is going to happen?” he asked again.

Tana shook his head, but his face was grim.

“Are we going to crash?” Shota said.

“Are we going to die?” Kota added.

Why they were both looking to Tanahashi to give them answers, he didn’t know, but Tana was the senior of them, and they were expected to turn to him for guidance.

The intercom came on again and the voice made more announcements. Kota looked anxiously at Shota for translation, even as whatever was being said was causing more panic in the cabin.

“He says we have been cleared to land at an airport about 20 minutes away,” Shota said. “He insists there is nothing wrong and everyone should stay calm.”

“Lying to us does not make us feel any better,” Tana retorted. “Something mechanical has failed. The pilot must keep control of the plane or we will crash.”

“Can he do it?” Kota questioned.

“We can hope if the pilot was able to stop the plane from falling out of the sky, he can also land it,” Tana answered.

The stark realism of Tanahashi’s statement made a shiver run through him as he tried to think of what he could do. What could he possibly do? He was trapped in a plane thousands of kilometers above the earth, and his life was in the hands of a stranger. He was powerless to do anything, but sit there and hope the pilot was up to the task. If he (or she) wasn’t, it was likely some - or all, of them would die when the plane hit the ground.

The thought was horrifying, and he was filled with helpless dread.

Around him people were pulling out their phones. The flight crew did not seem to be chastising anyone for that, only insisting the passengers stay in their seats. Both Tana and Shota had gotten their phones and were sending messages. No doubt Tanahashi was contacting his wife, and Shota was certainly messaging his father. The elder Umino was already in Philadelphia, waiting for them to arrive. He was the famous Red Shoes referee, and he had traveled with New Japan on this tour.

Kota pulled out his own phone and stared at it. Somewhere in his bag there was a SIM card he could put into it that would make it work in the United States. Kenny had gotten it for him for when he travelled Stateside, but he hadn’t swapped it out yet. Everywhere he had been had offered wi-fi so he hadn’t bothered trying to remember how to replace the card. The plane had it as well, and he’d purchased it after takeoff so he could entertain himself during the flight.

Now his mind drew a blank as to what to do or say. He couldn’t call Kenny, and New Japan’s rules on maintaining strict separation forbade him from mentioning him on social media. The one time during the G1 when Kenny had come even remotely close to mentioning that he was watching Kota’s matches, Kota had gotten stern reminders from the home office not to respond. But now there were only two people in the world he wanted to contact, and one of them was surely deeply asleep in Japan.

He sent a quick message to his mother. He told her there was a problem with the plane, but not to worry, he would message when they landed safely. He did not add ‘if they landed safely.’

Then he opened twitter and tried to figure out what he should do next.

What could he say? What **_should_** he say? What does anyone say when they are in a plane that is failing and might crash land?

‘There is a problem with the plane,’ he tweeted.

‘It will make a bad landing.’

As he sent the tweet, he felt the plane angle downward, more steeply than it should have been, and he took a deep breath to keep in the gorge of panic. The woman behind him had started crying and murmuring to herself. It sounded like she was praying.

He took another deep breath and cast a glance at his companions. Shota was clutching his phone to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut. Tanahashi was sitting perfectly upright, both hands on the arm rests. His phone was in his lap, open to a photograph of his family; his eyes were trained on the image, as if he wanted them to be the last thing he saw if they crashed.

The plane lurched and started to shake more violently, jolting him out of his thoughts, and his anger at New Japan’s rules over his private life was pushed aside. None of it would matter if he didn’t survive a crash landing.

Crash landing. The plane was going down, and he might die, and all he wanted was to see Kenny again. Kenny, who was waiting in Philadelphia. Kenny, who might have to identify his body.

‘Forgive me. I am sorry to leave you with a bad memory,’ he tweeted.

He slid open the shade on the window to see what was happening. They were definitely going down, and he could see forested hills and farmland stretching out below.

“Don’t look,” Tana admonished, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He might be watching the instrument of his own death, but he couldn’t stop.

Kenny would have to hear about it from the internet. Kenny would have to hide in the hotel when the news broke of the crash because he couldn’t be seen. Kenny would be devastated.

They were planning so many things to do during their time together after the tour. Kenny told him about a restaurant where many varieties of meat were cooked on long skewers and brought to your table, as much as you wanted. It had a strange name, but they were going to go there while he was in Orlando. Kenny joked that the restaurant would probably ask them not to come back when they saw how much the two of them could eat.

_“We’ll go to Disney World!” Kenny had said. “Buu-san there is a ride where you can fly the Millennium Falcon!”_

_“We can’t go to Disney World, Ken-tan. We can’t be seen in public,” he’d replied._

_“I’ll dark wash my hair and shave. You can wear a hat. No one will recognize us. Just don’t wear those ugly sneakers and we’ll be fine!”_

_He’d chuckled. “Which pair are you speaking of since you seem to think I have many pairs of ugly sneakers?”_

They’d laughed at that. And Kota had brought said ugly sneakers, just to tease, but now Kenny may never see them. They might never see each other again, and the wave of grief hit him like a kick in the gut. Kenny, who was his other half. Kenny, whom he missed like he was missing a limb. There was so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to say.

Kota hadn’t told him yet, but he had the option of staying an extra week in the States because he hadn’t been booked for any house shows after the US tour. All he had to do was call the booker and tell him not to put him in anything, and they would have more time.

Now there was no more time. 

The plane was shaking even more. People were crying. He was holding back his own tears. He was terrified, barely containing a scream.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you,’ he tweeted as the ground got closer.

It felt like a big wind hit the plane, pushing it back up into the sky as the pilot fought to bring it down. It lurched and twisted. Tana grabbed his hand. Kota clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.

The plane hit the runway and bounced twice as the engines roared. It screeched and swerved, jerking hard to the side, sliding, before coming to an abrupt and violent stop. His body jerked from the force of it, but stayed in the seat because he was wearing his seatbelt.

For a moment there was stunned silence, a collective holding of breath to see if there would be anything else. But there was no resulting crash or explosion, just a final shudder of the plane, like an exhausted horse finally allowed to stop and put its head down.

Kota cracked open his eyes, waiting, waiting…

The cabin erupted in cheers and claps as they realized they had landed safely. Passengers were crying, but now they were tears of relief and joy. He covered his mouth and choked back a sob. Beside him Tanahashi was gulping in large gasps of air and a tearful Shota was on the phone, presumably with his father. There were words of relief and love. Tana raised his phone with the image of his family still visible and touched it to his forehead as if in prayer. Kota opened twitter, ignoring the hundreds of panicked mentions on his feed, and tweeted.

‘It was a bad landing, but we are safe. We are okay.’

The flight crew ordered them to stay seated, even as a fleet of emergency vehicles surrounded the plane. Yellow suited crew workers swarmed the plane like bees, crawling all over the wing just outside the window. It would be another 45 minutes before the plane was towed to a place where they could disembark.

Kota realized that he had no idea where they were. But that was okay. They were safely on the ground, not dead amid the charred remains of a crashed plane. There was time to figure out where they were and how to get to Philadelphia.

There was time.

He was almost giddy, and a hysterical giggle escaped his lips, even as he pressed his hands against the window to make a face at the man crawling on the wing. He needed to put the SIM card in his phone and call the booker to tell him not to schedule him. An extra week would mean he could go to an AEW: Dynamite, since Kenny had scheduled off for the week they were supposed to be in Orlando. That would be wonderful. He loved to watch Kenny wrestle; missed it so much now that they were half a world away from each other. Kenny was magnificent, mesmerizing. Even after twelve years watching, Kota was still entranced by him.

So, Dynamite. And maybe a trip to the beach. And to Disney World, so Kenny could fly the Millennium Falcon. So many things to do. He didn’t have enough clothes, but that was okay. He could do laundry or go shopping. He needed a wardrobe suitable for Florida anyway.

They should plan a trip to Canada in Summer to see Kenny’s family. He had many happy memories of snuggling up under blankets in Kenny’s cozy cottage in Winnipeg. Morning coffee and cuddles in front of the fire. Visits from Kenny’s parents – beautiful people who had raised a beautiful son. Playing with Kenny’s nieces and nephews when his sister came over. Someone would cook or bake or bring a casserole. There would be laughter and games and camaraderie. They just wouldn’t mention the disastrous time Kenny had tried to teach him how to chop wood with an axe.

So Florida for two weeks after the tour, and Canada in Summer. So many plans to make because now there was time. Precious time.


	2. Chapter 2

The airport where they had landed was so small there was no passenger boarding bridge for the plane. Instead a switch-back ramp was rolled up to the cabin door, and they walked down directly onto the tarmac. There was some argument as to whether or not they could take their carry-on bags, but in the end the flight crew gave up and allowed the passengers their luggage. Kota only had the one roll-away suitcase, and he clutched it close as they exited.

They were ushered into a small terminal, and he and Tanahashi found seats while Shota tried to find out where they had landed so they could figure out what was next. Finally out of the plane and safely on solid ground, Kota’s legs gave out, and he slumped into an uncomfortable, plastic chair. He didn’t realize he was trembling until something was placed around his shoulders. He looked up to see Tanahashi draping him in his fleece travel blanket.

“Take this. You look like you are going into shock.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, even has his shaking hands gave him away.

“Yes, you are, but it is also okay to be shaky after something like that. First emergency landing?”

Kota nodded. “Yes.”

Tana grunted that he understood. “This was my second. They are… disturbing.”

Disturbing could hardly describe the fear he had just experienced, nor the euphoria of knowing everyone was okay and safe. Kota’s head was still spinning, his mind a jumbled mess of terror and adrenaline.

“Do we know where we are?” he asked.

Tana looked around, then nodded. “Yes. We are in Pennsylvania, but we are still hours from Philadelphia. I heard them talking about it when we were exiting the plane.”

Sometimes Kota forgot that Tanahashi was decent with English, too. Shota was better, but of the three of them, he was the one who was practically mute and illiterate. One would think after so many years bonded to a native English speaker, that he would at least be somewhat passible, but that was not the case.

Words in general were not Kota’s forte, let alone words in a foreign language written in a completely different alphabet. He did understand and read much more than he could twelve years ago, but he was far from fluent. Kenny was always happy to help him, to speak when necessary – whether it was English or Japanese, and before then, he would write his comments down ahead of time and read them off for post-match interviews. He was famous for his little “cheat sheet” papers that he would clutch with both hands as he read from the page.

But now he found himself stranded in a foreign country with almost no grasp of the language, and he was so grateful he was not alone. It felt too much like getting on the wrong plane while trying to get to CEO in Florida and ending up in the wrong state on the completely wrong coast. Thankfully, Nak could come get him because he was completely at a loss as to what happened or what to do.

He had vowed then to do better in the future, but then broke that vow. He recommitted himself to it today. He would do better and try harder so if something like this ever happened again, he would not be at a total disadvantage.

Shota returned to them, his expression grim and flustered.

“There is another flight to Philadelphia from this airport. It is at 14:00 hours, and it would get us to Philadelphia before 15:00.”

Kota looked at his watch. It was just before 10:00, American time; a 15:00 arrival would get them there in time for the show and Shota’s meet-n-greet, but he shook his head, shuddering. The last thing he wanted was to get on another small plane, so soon after almost crash landing in one.

“But we can only go on standby and there is no guarantee any of us would get a seat,” Shota continued. He cast a glance at other passengers who had been on the plane with them. “All available seats were already booked. The only flight they can guarantee us on is tomorrow at 6:10.”

“We would miss the show and be stuck here overnight,” Tanahashi noted.

“We could rent a car and drive,” Shota added, motioning towards the rental car counters. “The airline representative said it’s a three and half hour trip.” 

Tana made a face because he knew he would be the one who would have to make that drive.

“I’ll do it, but only if I have to.”

“The other option is to call an Uber,” Shota said. “My father says we’ll most likely be reimbursed the cost, but it’ll be expensive. The airline representative said it would cost close to $400 American dollars.”

Tana nodded as Kota lifted his head and offered, “I will pay for it if New Japan does not.”

“I have the app on my phone. I can see if there are any cars close-by,” Shota agreed. 

They waited while Shota opened his Uber app and scheduled a pickup.

“Says our driver is 3 minutes away.”

“Good. No waiting,” Tana said.

Kota agreed, standing up and handing Tana his blanket. He’d often considered getting a travel blanket and pillow set for himself, but he knew he’d just leave them somewhere to get lost. They gathered their rolling suitcases and jackets, and headed out to the pick-up location. It was a very short 2 minute walk to the sliding exit doors, and they stepped outside to a cool, sunny day. Low mountains covered in trees were in the distance, and Kota remembered seeing lots of open land as they were coming down.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“The middle of Pennsylvania. There is a big university here,” Shota answered.

“And not much else,” Tanahashi observed.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Shota agreed, then motioned to a blue Subaru Outback pulling up to the rideshare pick-up area. It had Uber and Lyft stickers on the windshield. “That’s ours.”

An older woman got out of the car as they approached. Kota noticed her do a double-take when she saw them, and he was pretty sure they’d been recognized. He waited for the requests for pictures and autographs, but they didn’t come. Instead, she opened the rear hatch of the car and helped load their carry-ons as she and Shota conversed. He didn’t understand 95% of what was being said until he heard,

“Oh my God! Are you guys okay?!”

Shota assured her that they were fine aside from a couple of bumps, a scare and a sincere desire not to get on another plane anytime soon.

Kota didn’t get her reply, but Tanahashi and Shota laughed.

“She said she hoped we would want to fly again soon because a trip back to Japan by boat would be a long cruise,” Tana said.

Kota chuckled and nodded in agreement as they got in the car. He and Tana sat in the rear while Shota sat up front.

“Okay, let’s do this,” their driver said, and they were off.

The driver let Shota play with the SIRIUS XM tuner to choose the music as they drove down a two-lane road flanked by open fields that then gave way to forest. A few kilometers later the forest turned to pastures and then to some agricultural buildings. They rounded a curve and a large sports stadium loomed ahead. The driver pointed to it and told Shota something, but Kota wasn’t paying attention.

A few minutes later they were merging onto a 4-lane highway and making their way towards Philadelphia. Shota confirmed that it would take just over three hours to get to their hotel, and they were hoping to arrive before 2pm. There wasn’t any wi-fi available, so Kota couldn’t tweet or send any messages, so he leaned his head against the head restraint and looked out the window. The road dropped down to two lanes again to go past fields, farms and housing developments before opening back up to 4 lanes just before they went down a very steep, curved road that was carved into the side of a mountain.

He watched, still somewhat dazed and his head full of static, as the kilometers sped by. The car was roomy – bigger than the same model in Japan, and the ride was comfortable. If he wasn’t still so wound up from the emergency landing, he might have dozed off, but he couldn’t get his mind to stop spinning. He was dimly aware that Shota and the driver were talking, and Tana joined in every now and then with a comment, but he stayed quiet – barely saying ten words unless directly spoken to.

About an hour into the trip someone’s stomach growled loud enough to be heard in the car. Kota wasn’t sure, but it might have been his, and he heard the driver ask if they were hungry. None of them had eaten since early that morning. He and Kenny were planning to order room service and eat lunch in the hotel room since no one could know Kenny was there, but he had to admit that breakfast had been a long time ago.

It was mutually agreed upon that American fast food was shit, and there was time to stop for a proper meal and still get to Philadelphia in plenty of time for Shota to make his meet-n-greet. So they found themselves at a type of restaurant known as a “diner” about half an hour later. The place had a huge menu with multiple pages, but Kota didn’t feel like trying to figure out what any of it said. He told Shota to order him a cheeseburger, fries and a coke, and the food was brought out quickly. The burger looked good, but the fries had shaved white cheese on them.

“I ordered parmesan garlic flavor for you,” Shota explained.

Kota shrugged and tried one. It was good.

“We shouldn’t stay too long,” he said. “Uber charges travel time, too.”

Both Tanahashi and Shota looked oddly at him.

“You really were zoned out. We aren’t being charged for this. The driver’s niece is a huge pro-wrestling fan. That’s why she recognized us. She ended the Uber trip when she found out what happened and why we needed a ride. She’s taking us to Philadelphia as a favor for free,” Tanahashi told him.

“Her niece is already going to the show with a friend. My father is looking into getting 2 ringside tickets for tonight, and I am going to invite them to my meet-n-greet,” Shota added.

“Oh,” Kota said, ashamed because he _had_ missed that. “Americans. They are so generous.”

Tana and Shota nodded in agreement, and they all returned to their lunches. His burger was very good, but huge. Portions in America were easily three times the size of the same type of food pretty much anywhere else in the world, but then he had three times the appetite just to maintain his muscle mass. It shocked most people who were not used to seeing wrestlers eat to see exactly how much food they could consume.

He was just finishing his burger when the waitress plopped a piece of cheesecake down in front of him. It was massive, with a pile of strawberries in thick red syrup and an almost obscene amount of whipped cream on top. He blinked at it in confusion.

“I ordered it for you,” Tana explained. “You look like you could use it.”

“Do I look that bad, Tanahashi-san?” he asked, suddenly concerned that the turmoil raging inside his head was visible on his face.

“You’re pale and silent, and staring off into space,” Tana answered.

“I’m sorry. I will try to do better.”

“It’s all right. It was just an observation not a criticism. We’re all shaken. Try some dessert. It will make you feel better.”

He obeyed and took a taste. It was delicious. He ate every bite.

Tanahashi insisted on paying the bill, including the driver’s lunch, and they were back on the road less than an hour later. Pretty soon, the view outside the car became more and more urban with heavier traffic, but the driver seemed to have no problems with the congested conditions. Kota remained silent, and drifted off into the static of his thoughts, until he saw a familiar red and white logo on a sign advertising food off an upcoming exit.

“Wawa?” he read, sitting up and pointing. “Wawa!”

“Do you want to stop at Wawa, Ibushi-san?” Shota asked, looking over his shoulder at Kota.

“Yes!”

“What is at Wawa?” Tana questioned, confused, even as the driver dutifully exited the highway.

“Coffee,” he answered, unable to explain how Kenny and the Young Bucks loved Wawa coffee whenever they were in the Philadelphia area.

The driver parked the car in the Wawa parking lot, and Kota jumped out. He rushed into the store and went immediately to the carafes of coffee. He filled the largest cup they had with one of the fresh brewed options and headed to the counter to pay. He had a few US dollars in his wallet from some cash he got in Chicago. He paid for the coffee and ran back to the car.

“Thank you!” he said in English as he slipped back into the rear seat, precious coffee clutched to his chest.

“No problem,” the driver replied, and got them back on the road.

Twenty minutes later, they were pulling up to the hotel. Shota must have messaged ahead because Umino the elder was already outside on the covered driveway, along with several members of their crew. He saw Okada, Juice, Rocky, and even Naito among the crowd waiting to greet them as they rolled to a stop, along with cameramen and photographers. Kota took a chance on there being wi-fi, and looked at his phone. There was a private DM notice on twitter. He opened it.

‘Room 316,’ it said, and his heart leaped in his chest.

He paid only the briefest of moments to pay proper respects to his elders and colleagues after he exited the car. The scene was chaos with everyone crowding around, happily greeting them. Umino the elder was squeezing his son and they were both crying. Kota could sympathize, but his loved one was inside waiting in room 316, and he had to get there.

He barely bowed to Okada and Naito and the show manager. He bowed more deeply to the driver who had brought them safely to Philadelphia so generously and quickly, thanking her again even as he took his bag.

“He is here. Third floor,” Okada whispered in his ear as Kota tried to navigate through the crowd. 

“Yes, Okada-san,” he replied, a desperate edge to his voice.

Okada stepped back, blocking the crowd and helping to clear a path for him. Okada and Kenny were friends, and he knew many of his colleagues missed him and the Jacksons. It always humbled Kota how much they were willing to risk New Japan’s displeasure by helping them hide their continued relationship.

“Go.”

“Thank you, Okada-san,” he said, pushing his way past, coffee in one hand, handle of his rolling bag in the other.

He ran into the hotel, frantic to find the elevator or stairs, and rushed down the hall where he saw promising silver doors. The doors slid open as he ran up, allowing a young gaijin couple to exit. He bowed to them and slipped into the elevator, jamming his finger on the “3” button.

The slowest elevator in the world finally let him out on the third floor, and he took a moment to see which way to go for room 316 before running down the corridor.

Kenny must have heard him coming because the door to 316 opened as he was getting to it and two hands reached out to grab him.

“Coffee! Coffee!” he cried, before Kenny could crush him (and the coffee) to his chest.

Kenny, eyes red rimmed and wide, saw the Wawa logo and teared up. “You got me Wawa coffee.”

“Coffee,” he repeated, offering the cup as Kenny gently took him by the elbow and pulled him into the room. The door shut firmly behind them, and Kenny put the security lock on.

They were both shaking as Kenny carefully lifted the coffee from Kota’s nerveless hand and placed it securely on the desk in the room. Then arms came around him, and he was home, home, whole. He clung back, squeezing as hard as he could as they both burst into tears.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Kenny sobbed.

“I was so scared! The plane almost fell out of the sky! It landed so hard, I thought it was going to break!”

“Oh God. Oh my God. Kota, Buu-san…”

They devolved into ugly tears, gasping and quaking, until Kota choked and felt the bile gorging in his throat. He yanked himself out of Kenny’s arms and ran for the bathroom as he vomited up his lunch into the toilet, heaving until there was nothing left to bring up. The garlic parmesan fries and cheesecake didn’t taste nearly as good coming back up as they had going down.

Kenny stroked his hair as he puked, then offered water and mouthwash when he was finally done. He slumped to the floor, exhausted and drained, and Kenny pulled him against his chest, holding him and whispering nonsense in his ear.

He tucked himself under Kenny’s chin, unable to get as close as he wanted, and he wondered if Kenny could pull open his ribcage so Kota could slip inside. He wanted to curl up under Kenny’s heart and stay there, safe and protected. They remained on the bathroom floor, tangled around each other, for what seemed like ages until Kota sniffled and pulled away.

“I stink,” he said, extracting himself from Kenny’s arms. “I reek of puke and sweat.”

He stood on shaky legs and started to strip, dropping his clothes absently on the tiles. He could feel Kenny behind him, stripping as well, and they both got into the shower. Kota set the temperature for as hot as they could stand it, then Kenny washed his back as he scrubbed the stench of fear and sweat from his body. Kenny poured some shampoo on his hands and reached up to wash Kota’s hair, massaging his scalp. It was sensual and soothing at the same time. Kota leaned towards him to brush a hand across Kenny’s nipple, but Kenny stepped away in a gentle refusal.

“Muu,” he protested, desire and need making his body tingle.

“Shhh, Buu-san. Let me take care of you.”

Kota sighed and obeyed, allowing Kenny to wash and stroke him. He bit his lip as Kenny finally reached between his legs and took him in hand. It didn’t take much before he was pressing his face to Kenny’s shoulder and shuddering with release.

“My turn,” he murmured, licking the water from Kenny’s collarbone.

“You don’t have to.”

“Hush. What kind of lover would I be if I didn’t take care of you, too?”

“You had a terrible fright. It’s OK if you don’t feel like it,” Kenny said, even as he pressed into Kota’s touch.

“Don’t feel like it? It’s all I want to do,” he admitted. “I want to keep you here in this hotel room and fuck until we can’t get it up anymore.”

Kenny laughed. “Reaffirmation of life after a near death experience?”

“Something like that,” Kota agreed, working Kenny’s body with practiced hands. Even after so long apart, he still knew how to touch and tease to get the most reaction out of his lover in the shortest amount of time.

Kenny shuddered and surrendered, letting Kota do as he wanted and bring them both pleasure. Afterwards, they dried each other off and lay down on the bed, still naked. Kota cuddled up with his head on Kenny’s chest and his body pressed close along Kenny’s side. It was soft and intimate. He’d had plenty of experience with sex without intimacy before he’d met Kenny, but it was Kenny who taught him that there could be intimacy without sex. Sometimes he felt closer to his lover in those moments than he did in the throes of coupling. The slow sweetness of it soothed him and made his often buzzing mind go still and quiet. They dozed off still tangled together.


	3. Chapter 3

Kota woke from his nap when his watch chimed 16:00 hours. He would have to dress and get ready to go over to the arena soon, because the bus that would take them to the venue would leave in an hour. But he wasn’t ready to leave the cocoon of peace he was wrapped in. He listened to Kenny’s heartbeat, steady and beloved, as he idly traced Kenny’s chest with his finger. He was counting the freckles that blossomed on his lover’s skin whenever he got too much sun. There were whole fields of them now spread across Kenny’s flesh, and he kept losing track.

“You need to wear sunscreen. You are becoming a spotted Gaijin,” he admonished, but there was no heat to his voice.

“I store power in my freckles. The more I have, the stronger I am,” Kenny answered.

Kota laughed. “Sounds like the plot for an anime character.”

“Or a video game. I’ll suggest it to Jebailey next time I see him.”

“Make sure you get credit for the idea. The royalties would make you a fortune.”

“And sales of sunscreen would plummet as kids all over the world would try to increase their XP by getting sunburned,” Kenny joked.

Kota giggled then grew serious. “I want to go to the beach with you. And Disney World.”

“We have next week,” Kenny said with confidence, as if New Japan wouldn’t retaliate if they were seen together.

“Oh!” Kota exclaimed, getting up to rummage in his bag.

He bent over to search for the plastic case that held the SIM card Kenny had given him. Behind him he heard Kenny groan, and he glanced over to see that Kenny had covered his face with a pillow.

“Kenny-tan, are you peeping at me?” he teased.

“The world’s most gorgeous man with the most perfect ass is showing it off right in front of me. What do you think?”

He grinned triumphantly as he found the tiny plastic case and presented it to his lover, along with his phone.

“I think you can have it for an extra week if you’ll put this in for me, so I can call the booker to tell him not to schedule me for any matches until the week after next.”

Kenny groaned again, this time with exasperation. “Buu-san, I showed you how to do that yourself.”

Kota shrugged. “I always had wi-fi. Besides, why should I do it when I know you will do it for me if I ask?”

Kenny glowered at him, but he just looked back with innocent “who me? I’m too cute” eyes until Kenny relented and took the phone and SIM card. He watched as Kenny deftly swapped out the cards and grinned when he handed the phone back.

“Thank you so much, Omega-san,” he said with a formal bow.

“You act like your shit doesn’t stink.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” he quipped back with a smirk as he dialed the home office number. Unfortunately he got the booker’s voicemail.

“Muu, no answer,” he said, disappointed.

“Might have something to do with it being 5am there,” Kenny pointed out.

“What a slacker. He should forward his calls to his private cell phone.”

Kenny laughed and threw a pillow at him. He deflected it easily, then straddled Kenny’s hips, pinning him to the bed with his thighs.

“Don’t do that, Buu-san. You have to go soon,” Kenny scolded.

“I know. But I’ll be back after the show. We’ll order room service and snuggle in bed.”

Kenny frowned. “I wish I could go with you. I miss being able to be backstage while you’re in the ring.”

Kota bowed his head. “I miss that, too. I miss seeing you wrestle in person. I want to go to a Dynamite while I am here.”

“We can do that. Next one is in Atlanta. Sold out show, too. New Japan really needs to get their heads out of their asses and partner with AEW. The contract with TNT is for four years. All of you could have exposure on national US TV.”

Kota huffed and slid off Kenny’s hips to start getting dressed. “I know, but they hold grudges, and they are mad you and the Jacksons left.”

“They were pushing us out long before we made it official. If they’d wanted to keep us, they could have had us. They decided to yank us around instead.”

Kota nodded as he slipped on the supportive briefs he wore under his ring gear. It was an old argument, and he didn’t want to revisit it. He and Kenny had spent many tearful nights prior to Kenny signing with AEW, trying to work out how they could stay together.

A lot of the time, it was just like how he and Kenny had been forced to hide their renewed relationship after they had reunited when he returned to Japan after turning WWE down. They had snuck around for years while they’d lobbied New Japan to write them back together. But in many ways, this time was worse because at least the last time they’d had to hide, they were in the same country, working for the same company. Now they worked for separate companies and lived halfway around the world from each other.

It was getting old, and he was getting fed up. Last time had been kind of fun; like playing a game of hide and seek where they tried not to get caught seeing each other, or concealing the fact that Kenny had moved back into Kota’s apartment. Now was different. They saw each other so infrequently, and having to stay out of the public eye was becoming harder and harder to swallow.

Especially after today. Today he could have died in a plane crash. He’d been helpless and terrified, and all he’d wanted was to see his lover again, but he hadn’t even been allowed to say his name on social media.

Forgoing is own bag, he rummaged in Kenny’s roll-away for a t-shirt. He pulled out a black shirt that had a Demon Slayer kimetsu no yaiba mask on it and slipped it over his head. He heard Kenny chuckle.

“Everyone is going to know that’s my shirt.”

“I don’t care,” he answered as he pulled on a pair of the loose, black cotton shorts he favored when he was backstage and didn’t have to be in gear.

“Getting dangerous and reckless in your old age, Buu-san? I remember your strong commitment to story,” Kenny commented with only a hint of bitterness.

“Almost dying in a fiery plane crash will do that to you,” he snapped back irritably.

Wounded silence ensued and Kota felt bad for snapping. He climbed back onto the bed and straddled Kenny’s hips again, stroking Kenny’s chest in apology.

“Forgive me. I’m out of sorts.”

“It’s okay. I understand. We’ve both been under a lot of stress and today was very scary.”

“Terrifying. I’ve never been so scared in my whole life. The plane was going down…”

He stopped, his breath hitching as he remembered the helpless fear. Kenny stroked his thighs in comfort.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re here. You’re safe.”

“I was so scared I would never see you again,” he choked, fighting back tears.

“When you posted to twitter…”

“And I can’t even say your name…” He yelled in frustration and gripped his hair. “Argh! This is ridiculous!”

Kenny rubbed his thighs more, soothing him.

“It’s easier here. Almost no one in America believes the stories are real anymore,” Kenny said. “The fans understand that we are people with private lives outside of the ring. They treat us more like actors playing a character, and they don’t expect us to play our roles all the time. We’re allowed to have private lives. I wish New Japan would join the 21st century and acknowledge that we’re real people with real lives.”

Not for the first time, Kota questioned their career choices.

“Did we do the right thing?” he asked, head bowed.

“We did what we had to do. We both wanted things we weren’t getting. Now I’m winning titles. _You’re_ winning titles…”

“With the wrong tag partner! Tanahashi is good, but he’s not you. The Golden Lovers should have won the heavyweight tag belts.”

“I won’t argue that. If New Japan partners with AEW, we can lobby to bring Golden Lovers back and kick tag team ass. Believe me, I want nothing more than to win that belt with you.”

Kota smirked wryly. “Hangman’s drinking getting to you?”

Kenny shrugged. “It’s mostly for show. He’s often not nearly as drunk as he pretends to be. More like it’s the same thing as you and Tanahashi. Adam is good, but he’s not you.”

“Sometimes I think I made the wrong choice signing with New Japan.”

Kenny shook his head. “They were never going to let you win titles as long as you were independent, and you didn’t want to leave Japan.”

“You didn’t either. They forced you out.”

“I know. But they won’t do to you what they did to me. You’re Japanese. I’m Gaijin.”

“They hold me to a different standard. I know.”

“And you’re their babyface darling. Your merch is always top selling.”

Kota snorted. “Golden Lovers merch still sells, and we haven’t been a tag team in over a year.”

“All about the profits. I like the new mini plush of you, by the way. They really saved themselves some headaches by just making your gear silver and sticking a blue star over your crotch.”

Kota giggled. “It’s hideous. I hate it, but not as much as my action figure. That one is truly awful.”

“Did you see mine?” Kenny said, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Yes! It’s amazing. I want them to do one for me.”

Kenny shrugged. “Join the Elite and they will.”

Kota grew serious. “Maybe next year. If I get tired of New Japan fucking with me, and me not being able to fuck you. My contract was for two years.”

Kenny ignored the sexual innuendo, mostly. “AEW won’t insist on you being full time or exclusive, and you will have control over your story. Look at Riho’s contract. Any one you’d be offered would be like that.”

“I told Chris Carlton I didn’t sign because they wanted me to leave Japan. I’m sorry I lied.”

“You had to. You couldn’t admit that it was New Japan causing the trouble because you were in the middle of contract negotiations with them.”

“Forgive me?”

Kenny reached up and pulled Kota down to rest their foreheads together. “There is nothing to forgive, remember? It’s business. We’re putting our careers first for now.”

“For now,” Kota agreed.

He knew he should get up and head down to the lobby because the bus would leave soon. It struck him that he had no idea which room he’d actually been assigned. He’d run right here and hadn’t bothered to check-in.

“I never checked in. I have no idea which room I’ve been assigned,” he admitted.

Kenny pointed to an adjacent door to the connecting room. “315. You just have to go down and show your ID to get the key.”

“You took care of it?”

Kenny shook his head. “Not me. Rocky took care of it, because after we got the news most of us were wrecks waiting to find out if you were all dead. You should have seen Red Shoes. He was a mess. The rest of us were useless, but Rocky kept it together and got shit done.”

Kota nodded. “He’s a good friend.”

“He is. We have good friends and allies here. A bunch of us were all together in Kazu’s room just before you got here. He has a suite, and we were all sitting together waiting for updates. Did you know Shooter instagramed the emergency landing and most of your drive down?”

He didn’t, but he wasn’t surprised. Shota had a huge Instagram following. “No, but then I was ‘zoned out’ as Tana said.”

“It was the only thing keeping us sane after we knew you’d landed safely. He was posting pictures and keeping us updated. Mox even called me to demand what the fuck was going on.”

“I’m glad he helped keep you informed.”

Whatever Kenny would have said in reply was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Ibushi-san, are you ready to go? The bus is leaving in 15 minutes,” a voice said in Japanese.

Kenny smirked, because of course everyone would know he was in Kenny’s room.

“Yes! I’ll be out in a minute!” he answered.

Kota climbed off the bed and reached for his sneakers.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” he asked.

“Of course. I’ll have food. I might even go get cheesesteaks from Pat’s and Geno’s just so we can see which one is better for ourselves. Although I was told a place called Jim’s is the best, so maybe I’ll get one from there, too, and we can have a cheesesteak tasting.”

“And you have Wawa coffee to go with it,” he said with a fond smile.

“I do, because I have the best life partner in the world. He remembers what coffee I like, and gets it for me, even after he’s been through an emergency airplane landing.”

“To be honest, I was worried it was just Matt’s thing,” he admitted, gathering his gear and making sure everything was in order.

“It is, but he’s converted me.”

“Just as long as he hasn’t converted you to heterosexuality, we’ll be fine.”

Kenny laughed and laughed. “No chance of that.”

He was ready to go and Kenny was still there, naked, on the bed. He went over and kissed him sweetly, but with promise.

“I love you.”

Kenny choked a little and sat up to hug him tight. “I love you, too, Buu-san. So much.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll be here.”

“With food.”

“With food,” Kenny confirmed.

“I threw up my lunch. I should probably have Monster and protein shakes when I get to the arena.”

“I’m sure they’ll have it in the locker rooms.”

“I’ll be sure to have some. Have to keep up my stamina for later,” he teased.

It took great effort to leave Kenny there, but he did. Taking his gear with him and making his way down to the lobby. Most of the others were there waiting for the bus, and they greeted him with hugs and pats on the back. Someone took pictures. He was sure that the Internet was imploding over the events of the afternoon. He hadn’t even bothered to look at his Twitter, but he needed to call his mother. He’d do that once he got to the venue. There would be time.

Time.

He had time. He didn’t die. He’d been given a second chance. He just needed to decide what he was going to do with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fixed some missing paragraphs I didn't realize had been accidentally cut out.

“They want us to make some comments at the end of the show,” Tanahashi told him in the locker room where they had showered after their match.

It had been a tag match against EVIL and Bushi. At least this time he didn’t get ink spit in his face, and they’d won. But after the events of today, being paired with Tanahashi rankled him more. He was with the wrong tag partner, and they both knew it. The heavyweight tag belt should belong to the Golden Lovers. It was an insult that New Japan had bestowed the heavyweight tag team championship on him and Tanahashi when he and Kenny had been denied the same titles.

He also needed to be doing singles matches again. He needed to be working his way back to an IWGP title match. It was the only belt he didn’t have, and he wasn’t going to get it tagging with Tana. He needed to start having some serious conversations with the booker about his future storyline. And maybe he would need to make some big decisions about his actual future if those conversations did not go the way he wanted.

But that was for after his “little vacation” as the booker had called it, when he’d finally gotten in touch with the office to request the full two weeks off. The man’s attitude bothered him. He was starting to suspect that there were a lot more objections to his same sex relationship than there had been before, and he wondered if someone in the president’s office was a homophobe with influence. Or maybe he was just noticing it more because the rest of the world seemed to be moving forward with equality while Japan still lagged behind. Same sex marriage was still illegal country-wide, but many prefecures and cities recognized civil partnerships.

“Oh? What do they want us to say?” he asked, turning his attention back to Tanahashi.

Tana shrugged. “That we’re glad we aren’t dead? So sorry we worried you by almost getting into a plane crash?”

Kota huffed in amusement. The Ace could be brash and sarcastic when he wanted to be, especially after a match.

“I understand. Have you talked to your wife? How are they doing?”

“They are good. Relieved. My wife wants me to take some time off so we can go on a family vacation when we get back to Japan.”

“Me too. I am staying in the States another two weeks after this tour.”

“That will be good for you. Some time off would be good for all of us. I think after today, we need to reassess our priorities,” the older man said, before turning and leaving the locker room.

Kota knew Tana was probably talking about ending their tag run and going back to being singles wrestlers. He knew Tana wanted the IWGP Title back, and he might have to fight Tana for it if the Ace got it back before Kota could win it.

But Kota wasn’t really thinking about titles when he thought of priorities. He was thinking of other things and wondering how he could have everything he wanted. Kenny would tell him that it was impossible to have everything he wanted, but Kota had done the impossible before. Maybe he just needed to do it again.

The more Kota thought about it, the more he knew what he wanted to say. It was risky, and had the potential to blow up in his face, but it also had the potential to do a lot of good. Since change came so slowly to pro-wrestling in Japan, maybe a bold move could force the issue. He just had to be prepared for the consequences should his statement be poorly received by the home office.

He begged paper and pen off the staff in the EMT office and found a bench in a quiet corner near the locker room to write down what he wanted to say, because he knew he would have to have a cheat sheet for this. He wasn’t Kenny. He couldn’t speak off the cuff and make any sense. Half the time he didn’t make any sense even when he did practice his speech. He thought back to conversations he’d had with Kenny on the same subject, choosing ideas and words that his lover had used and incorporating them into his statement. It wasn’t the same as having Kenny there to speak for him, but it was the next best thing. Kenny might sometimes accuse him of not paying attention, but Kota always hung on every word when Kenny was speaking.

He was putting the finishing touches on his speech when Umino the elder found him.

“Umino-san,” he greeted, bowing. The referee was infamous in New Japan, and in America. Staid and stoic, he had been with the company for many years.

“You look like a man who is about to do something stupid,” Red Shoes said.

Kota gave him a closed lip smile. “Mmmmm. Possibly. Why? Will you try to talk me out of it?”

The older man sat down next to him on the bench. “That depends. Will I be successful?”

It was a testament to his maturity that he actually considered the question. “Probably not.”

“Ah. Then I will not waste the effort.”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts then spoke softly. “I want to change the world… for the better.”

Red Shoes nodded sagely. “Ah. Tell me, is there pro-wrestling in this new and better world you want to make?

“Of course.”

“Well then, I will still have a job.”

“Yes, Umino-san. There will always be a place for Red Shoes.”

“Good. But don’t think that I will let you get away with anything in the ring just because you are responsible for this new and better world that has pro-wrestling in it.”

Kota gasped dramatically. “Umino-san! I am a Babyface! I have never broken a rule or done anything wrong in the ring ever!”

The older man leveled him with the bland look he was so famous for when he monitored matches, and it made Kota laugh out loud.

“The look on your face! It says ‘I am getting too old for this shit!’ so much!”

Red Shoes huffed, cracking a small smile.

“Are you getting too old, Umino-san? You have been with New Japan for years. How many of us have you mentored? How many Young Lions have you fostered out of the dojo?” he asked, looking fondly at the man. Red Shoes always looked after the young ones; the unofficial Locker Room Dad.

“Many. I have seen many young wrestlers come from the dojo, and ones like you who did not. You have all been my boys. All of you.”

The stoic façade cracked and he reached over to tightly grip Kota’s hand. “I thought I would lose three of my boys today,” the older man choked, a tear in his eye. “I am so glad I did not.”

Kota laid his other hand over top of Umino’s and gently squeezed. Later he would find out that someone had taken a picture of the intimate moment and posted it on social media.

“I am glad, too. So glad we landed safely and there were no injuries.”

Red Shoes nodded and rose to his feet. “Good luck with your better, new world, Ibushi-san. I will see you there.”

“Thank you, Umino-san.”

He remained on the bench after the referee walked away, going over his speech, and questioning if he was doing the right thing. It was so risky. So bold. It could ruin his chances of ever winning titles or outright get him fired. If that happened, he knew AEW would welcome him with open arms, no strings attached. There were other promotions in Japan as well who would be happy to have him. DDT would take him back in a heartbeat. He’d often said he didn’t care about money. All he wanted to do was wrestle. Now he would put that commitment to the test.

“They are calling for you in the ring, Ibushi-san,” a Young Lion said, approaching him.

It was a new gaijin boy. One who looked remarkably like a young Kenny yet shared no relation. Kota had forgotten his name, but the first time he had seen him helping at ringside he swore New Japan had hired Kenny’s younger brother – except Kenny didn’t have a brother.

“Yes, I am coming.”

He folded the cheat sheet and put it in the pocket of his black shorts as he got to his feet to follow the young man. The boy led him to the curtain at the top of the entrance ramp, and Kota paused there, suddenly apprehensive.

Was he really going to do this?

He wasn’t brave. Kenny was the one who was brave. Kenny was the one who had upended his whole life for a chance to be with him. Kenny who had seen videos of Kota wrestling and decided to leave everything he knew behind to come to Japan. He’d given up his home and job, and moved to a foreign country where he did not speak the language and knew almost no one.

When Kota left for the States, he had taken Nakazawa with him to act as a translator, and for years he had not bothered to improve his English speaking skills. Kenny was the one who had taken all the leaps of faith in their relationship. Kenny was the one to take the latest leap – having faith in the strength of their bond even as he left Japan to join a new company that promised a new way of doing business in the wrestling world. He’d been brave enough to take the chance on himself, but also give Kota the chance to win titles and change pro-wresting from within Japan.

Kota had not lived up to that promise. Instead he had faltered after winning the G1, letting New Japan deny him the IWGP belt at Wrestle Kingdom and pairing him with Tanahashi as a tag team. He’d hoped doing as they asked would open doors for him that had been closed when he was an unsigned independent wrestler, but even giving up his freedom and his lover hadn’t made New Japan give him what he wanted.

Kota was good at leaping. He’d leaped backwards off cars and mezzanines and balconies. But he didn’t think that was brave. He only did it when he was confident that someone would catch him. He leaped when he knew he would not fall.

Now he had no idea of the outcome, and the stakes were very high. It was possibly the biggest, most important leap of his career, and he was doing it blind. He was glad he was wearing Kenny’s shirt. It was clean, but it still had the faint scent of Kenny and home. It gave him courage.

 _‘Be brave. Be brave,’_ he said to himself as he heard his name being called.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts and stepped out onto the ramp. The spotlight moved to train on him and the crowd cheered. Tana and Shota were already in the ring, along with Red Shoes and several others from their roster. He saw EVIL, Sanada, Okada and a few members of the Bullet Club among them. He gave himself a nod and a mental pep talk as he climbed the stairs to the ring.

He stood next to Tanahashi and kept his eyes focused on his sneakers as Tana spoke. The Ace made a brief statement in English, saying basically what he’d told Kota earlier – sorry they worried everyone, yes, they were all okay. Shota’s speech was a little longer, also in English - describing the emergency landing and thanking their driver for bringing them to Philadelphia safely. He pointed to two women sitting at ringside, and Kota guessed they were the driver’s niece and her friend.

Then it was his turn, and he tried to calm the butterflies in his stomach.

_‘Be brave. Be brave. Be like Kenny.’_

He went to the side of the ring closest to the commentators and motioned for Rocky Romero to come up.

“Rocky-san, will you translate for me, please?” he asked.

The man did a double take, but took off his headset and climbed into the ring.

“Of course, Ibushi-san,” Rocky agreed, then addressed the crowd, explaining what was going on.

Kota waited until Rocky was beside him before giving him the microphone and taking out his cheat sheet. He read slowly, giving Rocky time to translate each sentence into English for the crowd.

“The plane was going down.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

“I was terrified.”

“I have never been so scared in all of my life.”

He paused, taking a deep breath, and took a leap of faith.

“And all I wanted was my partner. My _life_ partner.” He said life partner in English so it could not be mistranslated. “I wanted to see him again. To be with him again.”

His hands were trembling, and the sweat was smudging the ink, but he continued.

“More than a year ago, we decided to put our careers first. There were things we wanted to do. I would stay in Japan and work on my goals, and he would go to America to join a new company that promised to be different from other promotions. We felt that this was best for us even though it meant we had to be apart. We see each other when we can, but it is lonely, and we miss each other very much.”

He sniffed and wiped his hand on Kenny’s shirt. Someone moved close to him, standing just behind his left shoulder.

“It is very hard to be apart, and it is made harder because we cannot say each other’s names or be seen in public. The company insists we keep separate even in our private lives, so we must hide when we are together, and I must deny our relationship.”

He paused, letting Rocky catch up with the translation. He cast a glance at the audience and saw them watching with rapt fascination.

“We are not allowed to have private lives, but we are real people. We are not the stories we perform in the ring. Outside of the ring we are friends with those not in our factions. We are lovers, and husbands and fathers.”

He nodded to Chase Owens, Okada and Tanahashi in turn. They looked surprised, but no one tried to silence him.

“New Japan needs to join the 21st century and not dictate what we do when we are on our own time. Today I could have died. I was terrified that the plane would crash, and in that time I did not care about titles or tournaments. I cared about Kenny. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry I would never see him again. I wanted to tell him that I love him. But I could not say his name. That changes today.”

He was crying now, the tears dripping down on the paper and smudging the ink even more, but it was okay. He was almost through, and he knew the rest by heart.

“I will honor my contract with New Japan to only wrestle for them, but I have been given a second chance and I am not going to waste it. I will say his name, and I will be seen in public with him. I will not hide or deny our relationship.”

He crumpled the paper up in his hands and looked out at the crowd, his face wet with tears but defiant.

“New Japan can do with me what they want, but I am done pretending that I am not a Golden Lover. That is all I have to say.”

He bowed to his colleagues and the crowd, then left the ring, not bothering to gauge their reactions to his speech. He walked as if in a dream, not sure he was entirely in his own body, then he saw Kenny standing at the top of the ramp. The crowd saw him, too, and the arena erupted into deafening cheers.

He looked flushed and flustered. Someone must have called him, and he must have come over in a rush. The hotel was only two miles away from the venue, so it would not have taken him long to get there.

_‘Hey Omega, get your ass over to the arena. Your boyfriend is about to destroy his career.’_

He choked on a sob and reached out, sinking his hands into Kenny’s curls and pressing their foreheads together as Kenny reached up to place his hands on Kota’s head. It was as much of an embrace as a hug and as intimate as a kiss.

“Hi,” he said, almost absurdly.

“Hi,” Kenny answered.

There were cameramen and photographers and fans all recording video and taking pictures, but none of them mattered as much as the beloved face so close to his own.

“Your hair is sweaty. Kenny-tan, did you _run_ here?”

Kenny shrugged. “Uber got stuck in traffic. I ran the last half mile. It was faster.”

He giggled because it was such a Kenny thing to do. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I did a stupid thing,” he admitted.

“I heard.” 

Other people coming up the ramp broke the spell and someone yelled, “Take it backstage already!”

Kenny dropped his hands and Kota put his arm around Kenny’s shoulders as they slipped behind the curtain to the backstage area.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Kenny said as they navigated the halls.

Kota shook his head. “It’s the sanest thing I’ve done in years.”

They took a brief detour so Kota could grab his gear, then headed for the backstage doors.

“So what now?” Kenny asked.

“Boston if I’m not fired. Then New York. And then Disney World! We can fly the Millennium Falcon.”

“You can’t fly the Millennium Falcon, Buu-san. You’re a terrible driver. You’d smash it into a cliff and Chewbacca would yell at you.”

“Fine, you can fly the Millennium Falcon, and I’ll just sit beside you and shoot stuff.”

Kenny nodded. “That’s fair.”

A security guard opened the back door as they approached. They hesitated for a moment, then Kota smiled and slipped his hand into Kenny’s, holding tight.

“Shall we go then?” Kenny asked.

“Yes. Let’s go. Did you get cheesesteaks?”

“Pat’s, Geno’s and Jim’s,” Kenny confirmed.

“Oh good. For some reason I’m suddenly starving.”

“Upending an entire promotion onto its head will do that to you.”

“Nothing like a revolution to stir an appetite.”

“Exactly.”

They grinned at each other, then stepped through the door into – hopefully - the rest of their private lives.

.

.

.

.

.

New Japan didn’t fire him. And if they had a problem with the pictures Kenny posted of them wearing sparkly sequined Mickey ears while hugging Minnie Mouse (and every Disney princess they could find) well then… they could just fuck off.

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: In this story I describe an emergency plane landing for a plane that experienced a mechanical failure. The plane does not crash and no one dies. It is as close to the very real-life emergency landing that I and my husband went through several years ago when our plane leaving Atlanta suffered the loss of hydraulic power on the wing.
> 
> Yes, you can fly the Millennium Falcon as part of Smuggler's Run in Disney World's Hollywood Studios. Yes, you can smash it into a cliff. Yes, Chewbacca will yell at you.


End file.
